


Somewhere to Land

by redtribution



Series: 1 a.m. Fic [6]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: 1 a.m. Fic, 1 a.m. fic #6, 1 am fic, 1 am fic #6, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Lizzington - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtribution/pseuds/redtribution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outside the law, Red and Liz set up a peaceful life on Reddington's private island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere to Land

The rise and fall of the sleeping Reddington’s chest was positively ocean-like. Liz could hear the rush of waves with each intake of breath he took. From her standpoint cradled in his arms, she allowed herself to ride the slow buildup of air. Her head rose with his chest, crested, and then fell with a whoosh, similar to the crashing of water against rock that could be heard outside the open window. Despite his calming breath, Liz found her own breathing coming quickly, her heartbeat elevated. Unable to sit still any longer, Liz carefully disentangled herself from Reddington. Her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor as she rose, wrapped herself in a silken robe and made her way to the screen door at the far end of the room. Checking to make sure that Reddington hadn’t woken, she slid it open as quietly as possible and slipped through it onto the back deck.

The sky above Liz was beginning to lighten, but just barely. Liz pulled the pink silk of her robe tightly around her, though it offered little protection from the coastal breeze that searched its fingers through her hair, caressing her scalp. With a slight shiver, she squinted into the periwinkle dawn.

She should have known that Reddington would have bought an island of his own. Though she had never heard him speak of such a place, it was so very _Raymond._ She smiled to herself. Leaning against the wooden railing of the deck, she recalled the day he had suggested they escape to this place.

It had been in Norway, she remembered, though not specifically where. At the time, Reddington and Liz had admitted their attraction to one another, but they had not yet become comfortable with said attraction. They’d begun a slow invasion of each other’s physical space, but the emotional space had been strangely lacking. Liz remembered the fearful tango, the back-and-forth sizing each other up. Liz and Red were both dominant creatures, fearful of vulnerability and prone to retreating in the face of emotional rejection. Though they hadn’t known it at the time, both had been frightened of admitting the depth of their attachment to the other, certain that such a revelation would frighten the other away. As Liz’s hair tangled in the wind, she smiled at the memory. Such concealment was behind them now.

Liz remembered their hotel in Norway; watching Reddington schmooze waitresses, receptionists, the odd stranger. It was as they ascended the stairs to their hotel room after dinner that she finally confronted him about his…friendly behavior.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, tell me if I understand this correctly,” Reddington said in a low voice as they ascended. They held hands tightly, both still getting used to the feel of it. “You’d like it if I didn’t _talk_ to people so much?”

Liz didn’t meet his eye. Instead, she admired the lavishly carpeted stairs. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.  Any of these people could be working for the FBI, and you’re sidling up to them and making conversation! It doesn’t seem safe.”

Reddington shook his head. “The art of remaining hidden is closely entangled with the art of remaining at ease. Lizzie my dear, you know I adore you but youlook _horribly_ uncomfortable whenever we’re in public. If I don’t make an effort to put those around us at ease, they will more easily suspect us.”

Liz scoffed. “So you’re telling me we should make friends with the locals?”

“Nothing like that. I’m merely suggesting that our cover would benefit from the occasional friendly conversation—”

“I don’t speak Norwegian!” Liz’s voice rose slightly, and with it the conversation lit into an argument.

Reddington slowed his step, turning to look at Liz with a pronounced crease between his brows. “I don’t expect you to form a close _bond_ with anyone, but perhaps making the smallest effort to appear more at ease might allow us to enjoy ourselves a bit more fearlessly.”

“It’s not that I don’t make an effort, _Reddington,”_ Liz spat, disentangling her fingers from his. She pulled back from him, stopping a step below him on the stairs. “It’s that I’m frightened. I’m not used to being on the run like you, like a wanted criminal!” The last sentence came out in a whisper, but with malice attached.

Reddington narrowed his eyes, his expression distant. “Lizzie,” he said softly, his hand still halfway extended toward her, “you _are_ a wanted criminal.”

The words stung her heart, as though a breeze rippled across an open wound there. Her “wanted criminal” status was still new, raw, not yet internalized. However, more than the sting of her status, Liz was hurt by Reddington’s pronouncement of those frigid words. He knew how much they hurt her.

Liz refused to allow herself to become emotional. Looking Reddington in the eye, she said in a low voice, “Go. Leave. I’ll…be up later.” She felt the chill of her own breath as the sounds escaped her lips.

At once, Reddington’s distant expression slid into one of regret. “Lizzie,” he said softly, stepping toward her, his hand reaching to cradle her elbow.

“Don’t!” She said, stumbling back a few stairs. The single word hung in the air between them, reminiscent of another time, another place, another argument. Without another word, Reddington turned and began his journey up the stairs.

As Liz watched his figure ascend she felt herself cooling, and a feeling of regret instantly filled her. _Stupid, stupid, stupid argument,_ she thought to herself. In truth, her fear had little to do with the FBI and more to do with Reddington himself…but no, Reddington couldn’t know that.

 _But why not?_ As Reddington ascended the landing, it occurred to Liz that it was always Reddington who had been brave when it came to the two of them. He had borne her anger, her rage, her insults and even occasional cruelty, all for the sake of her protection. A flame lit in her heart. _This time,_ she realized, _it has to be me. I have to be brave._

Hesitation fled. Liz grasped the cool golden railing in her hand and bounded up the steps two at a time. On the landing, she turned and saw Reddington making his way down the corridor a few steps from her, a hunch rounding his shoulders.

“Raymond, wait!” She said, her hand still on the banister. He turned at once, and she saw concern etched in the lines around his mouth and eyes. He was worried about her. Again.

Liz’s heart beat a fierce tattoo in her breast. She knew if she waited any longer, she would lose her nerve. The silence couldn’t hang between them forever.

“I love you,” she choked out. She had meant the words to come out strong and fierce. Instead, they tripped over her tongue and sprawled into the space between her and Reddington. Her cheeks heated.

Reddington froze, halfway turned toward Liz. She had hoped the pronouncement would inspire comfort in him. Instead, in his expression, the dip of his eyebrows, she saw fear. Her own heart froze in dread as she raced onward.

“I’ve known it for a while—a few months, now. I know this complicates things, but I don’t care. I don’t want any regrets, and…anyway, that’s really why I’m upset about you flirting with our waitresses…” Frightened by his lack of encouragement of any sort, Liz began to backpedal. “I know you don’t feel the same way—I hoped—it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I shouldn’t have said anything, but…” Liz’s shoulders slumped. Honesty was all she had left. She surrendered, her breath coming out in a whoosh. “I wanted to be brave for you.”

Reddington turned slowly until he was facing her, head on. His expression was fierce, and he met her gaze unblinkingly. In that moment, he seemed much, much taller than ever before.

Liz’s voice came out in a whisper. “I’ll go down and book a separate room for tonight.”

“No,” he growled.

In two steps, Reddington closed the gap between himself and Liz. He pulled her to him in a breathless heat, pausing to look into her eyes, his lips inches from hers.

“Elizabeth Keen,” he whispered lightly, as though handling the words with his fingertips, “I love you fiercely.”

His kiss swept a hurricane through her whole body, leaving her weak in the knees and breathless. She clung to him for the support she had always been afraid to ask for, but had always known he offered. She collapsed into him as the kiss ended, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Thank God,” she whispered.

They froze there like that, cementing the moment. At last, Reddington’s voice came in a low whisper in Liz’s ear.

_“Come with me.”_

 

The sky above Liz had turned a lighter blue as she stood on the deck, lost in thought. The trees around her rustled, and the sound brought her out of her reverie. She smiled, folding the memory of that night in the hotel room to herself, deciding that was one scene she wanted to preserve for future recollection. It had been the next morning that Reddington had made the suggestion of fleeing to this private island of his.

 

Liz laughed, disentangling herself from Reddington. She pulled a fistful of covers to her chest, intent upon keeping him from hogging them, as was occasionally his way. “A private island?” She said. “I should have known.”

Reddington captured her in his arms again, pulling her close and setting his lips to her ear. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” He asked.

“It’s just…very like you.” Liz said, unable to keep a smile from splitting her face.

“Well, what do you say, Agent Keen? I haven’t wanted to take you there; it hasn’t felt right. This entire flight of ours has felt…dangerous. It’s been necessary; it was important that the FBI have occasional sightings of us, valuable leads. But perhaps we’ve had enough running. Perhaps it’s time for us to…fly somewhere safe.” He suggested.

Liz stilled for a moment, pondering. His bare skin against hers was warm, heated further by the anticipation of their next destination. With a slight sigh, she rolled to face him, her nose inches from his.

“That sounds…amazing,” she said, placing her hands on his chest, her thumbs toying with the short hairs there. “I would be happy to run away to your weird little island with you. But,” she said, leaning in and planting a deep kiss on his lips. “I don’t think I’m ready to land yet.”

 

That had been a year ago. Reddington and Liz had traveled, enjoyed their honeymoon phase of sorts before the novelty of new places and experiences began to wear on the both of them. Six months ago, they had landed here, just the two of them. It had been six months of quiet afternoons and lazy mornings; six months of feeling the sand between their toes, the sun warming their backs, the ocean cooling their skin. Six months of intense Kant readings and cheesy romantic movies, the occasional weekend away at a new, adventurous destination. Raymond still had a business to run, and run it he did, though less avidly than before. Raymond’s business wasn’t their only project. The Cabal was still at large, and they worked here and there to dismantle it, hoping one day for both of their names to be cleared. However, for now, their life was lived at a distance from the world. As the sun finally broke across the water in front of Liz, she heard the opening of the screen door behind her.

Raymond’s arms wrapped around Liz from behind, cradling her against the blue dawn. She felt the give of his stomach pressed against her back, the complete envelopment of her shoulders in his firm grasp. She leaned back, allowing every point of contact possible between the two of them. His lips planted a brief kiss on her cheekbone, leaving a slight moisture, which the wind cooled before whisking away.

“Lizzie,” he purred in her ear, his deep voice reverberating like a bass drum. Her content in that moment was so whole, so perfect. She sighed as a tear sprang to her eye.

“I love you,” she whispered, recalling the ghost of the same words so many months ago in the hotel in Norway. She couldn’t have known then that the sentiment would only deepen.

“And I you,” Reddington said. He lifted a hand to pull down the neck of her robe, meeting the exposed skin of her shoulder with feather-light lips, then deepening the kiss, his tongue making a fleeting appearance. Liz shivered.

Mistaking her arousal for cold, Raymond replaced the robe and curled himself more tightly around her, shielding her from the tropical breeze. Together, they stared out across the water. Beyond their island, they were surrounded by sea, without the possibility of sighting land for miles to come. Not a boat graced the horizon; not a plane tracked a course overhead.

“Look at that horizon, Lizzie,” Raymond murmured in her ear. She could barely hear him over the breeze. “The way the sun lights the water on fire. It’s… _breathtaking.”_ He paused. “Do you ever think of flying off into that horizon again?”

“What do you mean?” Liz sighed, leaning her head against his cheek.

Reddington let the music of rustling tree leaves fill the silence for a moment. “I would never want you to grow tired of life here,” he elaborated. “You are…wildly adventurous, Lizzie. I would never sacrifice your innate sense of purpose for a quiet life here, with me. As much,” his voice deepened as he kissed the corner of her mouth, “as I might want to.”

Liz sighed again. She watched the waves slink up the beach in front of her, saw how the vast sky curved away above her, beckoning her to explore its heights. She thought about the life she’d left behind, the friends, the mysteries. In truth, part of her still longed for that life. But Raymond had managed to quiet the fire within her, the fire that had raged ceaselessly for most of her life. For the first time in thirty-three years, Elizabeth Keen had found a measure of peace.

“I’ll always want to fly away on occasion,” Liz said. “I have to feel like I’m fighting for something, and we are, you and I. But the truth is…” Liz felt the warmth of his cheek against hers, his arms around her, the complete and total _safety_ he provided. “The only place I’ll ever want to land is here, with you.”

“That’s…” Reddington’s voice was rough. He cleared his throat, “…Good, Lizzie.”

The ocean crashed, birds chirped, the trees created a symphony of whisperings in the wind. Despite being surrounded by sounds, Liz felt a peaceful quiet that could only come from a heart at rest. She had found somewhere to land.


End file.
